The Visitor
by ilovepiano12
Summary: Alex Riders life is nothing out of the normal after he goes to live with a normal family, in a normal house, and back to his old school. Sure, he's protected, but for the most part, MI6 leaves him alone. What happens when everyone finds out that MI6 employed a minor? Chaos. After Scorpia Rising, he didn't go to America! Review!
1. Chapter 1

**Yo! wazzup? This is my last post for the rest of the summer, see my profile for more details! Anyway, I LOVE Alex Rider, I've wanted to write him for a while! I don't own anything, and review, review, review! :)**

Chapter 1.

Sometimes, when Alex thought about Jacks death, he cried.

Other times, when his 'Family' as he called them, talked about it, behind closed doors and in hushed tones, he sat there like a rock, stony faced, while his 'Sister' looked worriedly at him.

They didn't know about his earlier involvement in MI6.

They didn't know about the agents that tailed his route to school everyday. They didn't know about the bulletproof vest he wore, or the small gun hidden in the form of a black cell phone.

They didn't know about Sabrina.

But they knew about Jack.

MI6 had told them that Alex had been kidnapped, and Jack had gone to hand over the ransom when her car had hit a land mine on the property where the kidnappers were hiding out.

They were told that Alex saw it all on camera.

Alicia, his 'Sister' was a nice, sweet girl. The kind that was popular because people loved her, not because she dressed like a hooker.

She looked out for him at his school. She had accidentally known him before the adoption, and the rumors, when they'd run into each other in the library and chatted for a while.

When Alex had been handed the paper with the name of the family he was going to live with, the last name was a little fa miler, and it was nice to know he didn't have to live with complete strangers, anyway.

The vest he wore everyday was uncomfortably tight around his chest as he walked to school on that cool October morning. Alicia took the bus, be he always walked or rode his bike.

He didn't like the stares. And anyway, he met up with Tom on a side street everyday, so it wasn't all bad.

Tom had been the best friend he ever could have wished for, never asking questions when Alex would stop and stare off into the distance, or when he would ask for a hall pass and not show up for the rest of the class. He knew that Alex was having a panic attack, or under too much stress.

The first few times Alex had asked for a pass, Tom went and got one too and tried to help him, but Alex asked him to stop.

Alex didn't need help. He knew he would get through it. He always did.

He saw Tom, standing beside the same bench, the same street lamp as always, and they fell into a comfortable silence as they walked the last few blocks toward school.

Alex looked over his shoulder, like he did every day, searching for the random homeless man, or the black, tinted window car that was there every day.

They weren't there. His tail was gone. Alex supposed that they thought he was safe enough, now that he was back in the normal world.

He and Tom lost themselves in the crowd in the hall when they reached school.

The whispers that had followed Alex a few months ago were nearly gone.

Sometimes, people would talk about how bad they felt for him, with his parents, uncle and housekeeper dying like that.

But most of the time, they gossiped about 'That Alex'. Why his eyes looked so haunted, why he never hardly talked to anyone but Tom.

Theories used to fly around like wildfire, but in the past month they'd calmed down. Of course, there was still enough to keep the schools gossipers interested.

Why, they wondered, did Alex not go into the C.P.S.?

Why, before his housekeeper died, had he never shown up for school? And as always, there was still the many scars across his torso that were visible in the boys locker rooms.

The bell rang. The inevitable noise always grated on Alex's nerves. He and Tom walked down the hall into their first class, taking their customary seats in the back. Alex neatly arranged everything on his desk. He was a good student, fantastic even, but he felt no connection to this place anymore.

The teacher walked in as the second bell rang.

Class had begun.

Lunch was chaotic, as always.

Alex sat at a crowded table, for Tom. Tom liked to talk to other people, and Alex didn't. Alex always spaced out during lunch hour.

At first, people would try to draw him into the conversation, asking him about his interests, what he was doing on the weekend, but after they noticed his lack of interest, they stopped trying and talked to Tom.

The bell rang. People got up, cleared their trays, still chattering.

Alex dumped his partly eaten lunch in the trash, and walked out without Tom, who was currently asking out a girl from French class.

Alex went into the boys bathroom for a minute to relieve himself, then back into the hall. He passed the principal, and he nodded politely before moving on.

Alex walked into his next class, which was already full. He had sent to much time in the bathroom.

He quickly took his seat in the back, and pulled out his textbook and opened it to the correct page. It was getting to be a long day.

He was in History when it happened.

He had a seat by the window, and he had already done the worksheet the teacher had set out for them, and he was staring out the second story window.

At first, he thought the figure walking across the grounds were just security, but the way he kept looking behind him made him think differently.

He looked closer. He wasn't wearing the security uniform, but black, simple tee-shirts and jeans.

With MI6 printed in white on his boots.

And he had a gun.

Alex raised his hand and asked for a hall pass. The teacher was used to Alex asking and handed it over without a word.

Alex walked as quickly as he dared out the class in through the halls.

What did MI6 want with him? They had promised to never contact him again. Of course, there was always the off chance their being here had nothing at all to d with him.

Alex made it to the front steps without being detected, and he stared around the front lawn, looking for the MI6 agents.

Nothing.

Alex turned left and walked stealthily along the side of the school building, keeping an eye out for camera's.

"Alex Rider?"

A deep, menacing voice said from behind him. Alex spun around to face a tall, dark skinned man in his late forty's, in the Mi6 uniform.

"Yes" Alex said. He took a step back. This man's 6 foot 3 was intimating to his 5'11 stature, and he had to tilt his head back to look at him properly.

"We were told to come and get you. Your needed again, Mr. Rider" The man said.

Alex's heart sank. Not again. Not ever.

He wouldn't do it.

"And why is that?" Alex said, his voice growing angry. "I was told I'd never be contacted again by MI6, MI5, or the government!"

"Well, we lied" The man said. Alex took another step back from the man. He was about 4 feet away from him now.

"Your a MI6 agent, right?"

The man smiled, showing a gold implant over his left canine

"Of course, _Alex._"

Alex turned and ran back the way he came.

He didn't run up the school steps, as that would be putting his fellow students in danger. He passed the steps, and he heard the heavy steps of the man behind him.

The man was fast, but Alex was faster, and he shot by the windows of classrooms on the ground floor.

Alex glanced briefly up and noticed that he was almost to the window below his classroom.

He could just make out the top of Tom's head, where he was sitting near the window.

His attacker was about 15 feet behind him, and gaining.

Alex's bulletproof vest was restricting his breathing, and he was slowing. He reached into his pocket and gripped the black cell phone.

It tripled as a gun, phone, and he could hear conversations from 300 yards away if he wanted to. Tom had tried to persuade him to use it to spy on the girls in the ladies room, as they were known to gossip at the sinks, but Alex had flat out refused.

He brought it out of his pocket, and pressed a small silver button on the side. A panel at the top slid sideways, and a small gun barrel slid outward on the right. Alex turned the gun sideways so the side with his gun finger was on the button trigger, and stopped.

He turned and pointed the gun at the man, who halted and raised his hands above his head.

"Put your hands behind your head!" Alex shouted. The man complied, keeping his right hand, which had a large gold watch on it facing Alex. The clock part of the watch was on the inside of the mans wrist, which was facing Alex.

"Now, now, little boys shouldn't play with guns" The man said. Alex ignored the jib and said, "What's your name!"

Alex cocked the gunaphone and stepped closer to the man. The man took a step back and said quickly, "Monty, Phillip Monty!"

"And what are you doing here!" Alex said, running his finger over the trigger. He would shoot, if he had to shoot, but not to kill.

"Egyptian Secret Services sent me, to ask you about a business opportunity!"

Monty's eyebrow twitched, and he wiped a bead of sweat off of his forehead.

"I don't believe you" Alex spoke quietly, and quickly. "I'm giving you one chance to leave, and never come back. I'll shoot if you do one wrong move."

The man smiled cruelly.

"Now Alex, we both know you won't kill me. But me... Now, I can kill you"

He lunged, and Alex pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

**OMG! I love you guys! I got about 20 story alerts, and 5 reviews! Thank you! Yeah, this is book verse, and I'm talking about Sabrina, not Sabina! I don't really like her either... And Btw this is no slash! Ugh... I'm not a supporter... Anyway, its shorter, but I'm going to play softball tonight, so I didn't have much time! Love ya'll! :)**

Chapter 2.

Tom yawned as he took a break from taking notes. Alex was taking longer than usual, but he didn't think much of it. He'd seemed preoccupied that morning, and he was probably thinking about Jack again.

Tome leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window.

There was a beautiful old oak tree he liked to look at, with a family of squirrels in a hole near the top. He looked across the grounds, at the security gates, the fence, a hedge, Alex and a MI6 agent fighting...

Tom leapt out of his seat and pulled open the window, and took his cell phone out of his pocket as he did so.

"Tom! Sit down right now!" His teacher shouted, glaring at him. The rest of the class snorted.

"Professor, I need a hall pass!" Tom cried, as Alex fired his gunaphone. The gunshot seemed ten times as load with the window open, and the professor froze, his glasses, slipping off of the end of his nose.

The teacher ran to the window, knocking tom aside, and leaned out of the window, staring around. None of the security guards seemed to have heard the shot.

Tom flipped open his phone and dialed the police as the rest of the class ran to the window, yelling excitedly.

"Hello, this is Tom Harrison, I need MI6!" Tom bellowed into the phone. Alex was trying to fight the man off, the bullet had only grazed the mans side.

There was silence on the end of the line, then a gruff voice said "This is Agent Collins of MI6, Tom, is something wrong with Agent Rider?"

"You can bet your butt there's something wrong!" Tom yelled. "He's being attacked! Get over here! He isn't going to last!"

The person on the end of the phone disconnected abruptly, and Tom snapped the phone shut.

The teacher was now yelling at Alex and the man, telling them to stop, and to please put the gun down, but the next round of gunfire from Alex's attacker's gun shut him up as he slammed the window shut.

Alex was now doing a series of karate moves, roundhouse kicking the man in the gut, and a swift elbow to the groin when he doubled over. Alex pushed the man over with his knee and trailed the gun at his face.

Tom could.'t hear what was being said, but as soon as Alex was done talking the man tried to grab him and pull him down.

Alex shot the dirt beside the mans face, and Tom winced. He looked over to the right where a large truck was driving straight through the gates to the school.

MI6 had arrived.

The teacher was now yelling into the intercom, talking to the principal, telling to get the army on the phone, or at least the downtown police.

A few people who weren't screaming were taking pictures with their phones and filming the scene below.

Tom looked back down. He felt helpless, watching Alex subdue the man, and he also felt that the brief period of peace they'd been having was over.

Six agents dressed in street clothes were running across the lawn, grabbing the man by the arms, and another of them was stabbing a needle into the mans arm.

After a moment, he went limp.

Alex slept badly that night.

He had had to go to HQ, and writing a statement, and Mrs. Jones herself had come downstairs to talk to him.

Of course, the knowledge that several agencies all over the globe were now interested in him wasn't a surprise.

Typical, just after he'd been traumatized, tortured, and beaten, and then finally a period of peace something like this would happen.

He had had to sign a paper saying he wouldn't work for anyone except the British government, unless otherwise approved by Mrs. Jones.

Alex had fought it, but the truth was he knew too many secrets, and had done too many things.

He would be a valuable asset to other countries trying to overthrow the government, and they couldn't let him go. He would always be watched.

The worst part?

Apparently some students had filmed him fighting Monty, and had posted it on-line. A reporter had seen the video, and within hours the story was out : The British government had employed a boy, Alex Rider, as a spy.

Phone calls were pouring in from the entire country, and by noon tomorrow everyone would know Alex was a spy.

Alex was in his bed, his Ipod plugged in full blast in his ears, ignoring his adopted parents knocks on his door.

A agent had gone to his house and explained the entire thing, and then left about a hour ago after making sure the house was secure.

His parents had tried picking the lock, but Alex had installed a deadbolt a few weeks ago and they couldn't get through. About midnight they gave up and went to bed.

They were making him go to school tomorrow. Even though it wasn't safe, he was known there.

Tom had called him several times, but Alex had disconnected the phone line and deleted the call app from his Ipod Touch.

Alicia had been mainly quiet throughout the entire ordeal, and Alex was thankful to her for that.

She, unlike her parents, seemed to realized her didn't want to talk, he didn't want to tell them about his adventures, or about his parents and uncle.

The last words Alex heard his step-mom say before she went to bed were "You can tell me anything"

But he couldn't.

How was he supposed to delve back into the horror of it, the raw, emotional pain? Did they think that he didn't care?

That he didn't have feelings?

Alex rose late, after the rest of the family were at breakfast. He quickly pulled on a wrinkled uniform, but changed his mind and pulled on the ironed one his step mum had set out for him.

He spent hardly any time in front of the mirror except to note his baggy eyes, and to run a comb through his hair.

He grabbed his bag, he hadn't done his homework, but he'd make it up and was nearly out the door when his step father's cough made him freeze.

"Ahem."

Alex turned around, knowing he wasn't going to say anything. His step father was standing in the kitchen doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

"Yes?" Alex asked politely. He shut the door and waited.

"We need to talk." He said. Alex glared at him.

"I'm late. And there is nothing you need to know."

His step dad swelled with anger. He wasn't in a good mood on most days, and the news that his adopted son was a spy was crossing the line.

He also didn't like back talk, except for a polite "Yes Sir" or a "No, sir".

"There is a lot I bloody well need to know!"

His step dad took a step towards him. " Theres all these... People telling me you're a spy, then this business with the people outside, and your face on television!"

"What?" Alex said, staggered. He turned and wrenched open the front door, and cries of "There he is!" And "Alex, tell us how you feel about MI6 using you!"

Reporters.

At least a dozen of them were camped out on the front lawn, pressing microphones toward his face and yelling questions at him.

Alex decided he would rather face them then his step dad, so he shot out the door and past the reporters and away from his shouting stepfather, who was yelling at him to come back.

As soon as Alex was out of earshot of them, he turned around. The reporters were now shouting questions at his step dad, who was holding a phone and apparently calling the police.

He dreaded this day.


	3. Chapter 3

Alex put his face in his hands and groaned.

Never, ever, in his wildest dream had he expected the reception at his school to be as crazy as it had been.

People had surrounded him, grabbing at him and yelling questions at him, and it to the principal with a mega-phone to get them to leave him alone. The principal had stormed through the crowd, grabbed Alex by the back of his shirt and toted him off to his office. He'd been yelled at for have an hour for even coming to school, then the man had started asking about MI6 and his involvement.

Alex had shut his mouth and stared at the blank white wall. He hadn't said a word. And he was proud of that.

He didn't know why he didn't just tell. He didn't owe MI6 anything, in fact, it was the other way around.

They owed him everything. His parents, Ian, his home, his normal life, _Jack..._

No.

He didn't have to give them anything, He could walk away if he wanted. And he knew he would. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but he would. He would get out of this place.

Maybe he'd go to America. Right now he'd rather work for the CIA than MI6. He could start over. A new life.

Alex stood resourcefully. He was going. Screw maybe. All he needed was his passport and his clothes and money. He locked the door to his room and ran his hands over his face. His "Parents" were downstairs talking to someone from MI6. Not an agent he knew. He went to his desk and pulled the drawers out and scattered old term papers and pencils and the occasional mint. He found his passport and checked the date. It hadn't expired. He stuffed it into a duffel bag along with his billfold. He grabbed a sleeping bag from the top of his closet and stuffed it into the bag as well. He took random items of clothes from his drawers and folded them tightly together to save space. He took warm coats and jeans and sweaters, then changed his mind and took a pair of shorts as well.

Alex grabbed a box of protein bars from under his bed and threw them on top of his clothes, then pulled his bullet proof vest on under his sweater. He grabbed the small automatic pistol that he kept under a floorboard. The small, heavy gun felt familiar in his hand. Alex grabbed several boxes of bullets and shoved them in the bag.

Alex slung the bag over his shoulder and looked around the room. He didn't really have any attachment to it, at least not much. The small unmade bed, with the green blanket at the base of it, the pine dresser and wardrobe, the matching desk with his homework sprawled over it. The walls were cream, the floor dark brown carpet. He might miss it. His eyes fell on the picture frame on the bed side table. On impulse he crossed the room and put it in the bag as well.

Then Alex opened the door.

He shut it again, slowly when he heard voices. He had forgotten about the MI6 agent downstairs. Alex crossed over to the window and tossed the bag out to the side garden and then climbed out on the trellis.

He dropped to the ground silently and picked up the bag. Then he set off to the air port.

"Flight seven-two-six-four is now boarding. I repeat, flight seven-two-six-four is boarding. Thank you."

The intercom jolted Alex out of his doze. He picked up his duffel bag and set off to the plane. His gun was untraceable by the metal detectors, and he did have MI6 to thank for that. Alex got a window seat on the plane, and he fell asleep again on the way to America.

When he awoke tow hours later, it was to the flight attendant shaking his shoulder. "Sir, would you like something to eat?"

Alex looked up, disoriented. "Uh, yes, thank you." He said. She brought him a bag of chips and a soda.

After Alex ate, he stared out the window at the ocean below. He could barely see it. He wished he'd brought a book or something to do. It took a while, but he fell asleep again.

The plane landed six hours later in North Carolina, the northern part. It was then he realized he didn't have a place to stay the night. He got a cab, or a taxi, as the Americans called it, and it drove him over the state line and into Virginia. It was late, maybe eleven when he stumbled into a hotel and got a room. He slept that night on soft clean sheets, his hair still wet from his shower.


	4. Chapter 4

Alex breathed heavily through his nose, in and out. His breath froze and turned to steam, leaving a constant cloud in front of his face.

He knew he was somewhere in Virginia, not quiet sure exactly where though. The weather was colder here.

It had been a week. A week of constant walking, hiding from police officers, and finding a place to sleep at night.

The money he had was running out, and he needed to find some sort of employment, and soon. Maybe he could rent a room somewhere. This small, out of the way town was what he'd been looking for.

Alex stood and shook himself off, brushing bits of hay out of his hair and off of his clothes. He'd spent the night in an old, towering red barn that he'd stumbled into. No one seemed to be around to ask if he could stay, so he'd just rolled up his lack and sleeping bag and fallen asleep in the hay loft.

He changed quickly into warmer, clean clothes then scaled the ladder to the wooden floor. There wasn't any animals here except for mice, and by the looks of the boot and shoe marks covering the floor, the townsfolk used this place as a dance floor.

He decided to leave his backpack and other possessions in the loft, covered by hay. Surely there was work in the town. Maybe someone needed a sink fixed or a fence painted. There was even a school. He needed a fake ID, and soon. He knew as soon as he used his ID whatever system he'd used would send out a red alert all over the country.

He grabbed half of a left over granola bar from the day before and ate it, washing it down with water he got from a drinking fountain as he walked through the town.

He tried to look inconspicuous, but it was hard when at this hour most of the people his age were going into school for the day. Alex hunched his shoulders and worked on making himself visually invisible.

It must have worked, because most people didn't spare him a glance. Alex still swerved to avoid streets with heavy traffic, and he got a weird feeling when he saw a 'Drivers Ed' car filled with females parked at a curb.

It seemed innocent, but no one was in the drivers seat. Alex's neck prickled when he walked by them, and he turned his head quickly enough to catch one of the girls turning her head away.

Bad tactics, he thought to himself. Better to look them in the eye, then look away as though it was just causal eye contact on the street.

Something bothered him about the three girls, and he didn't realize what it was until he'd gotten several blocks away.

The insignia on their uniforms: He'd seen it before, on the metal gates of a private boarding school he'd seen out the window when he'd hitchhiked in.

The walls of the school had seemed innocent, but Alex had caught a glimpse of razor wire and hidden cameras concealed amongst the ivy leaves growing over the stone.

Strange security for a private school.

Alex nodded to a police man who passed by - no need to alarm them by making himself look more like a fugitive than normal.

He looked up after passing a small bookstore and saw a sign in a drugstore window -HELP WANTED.

Without a second thought Alex pushed the door open and walked in.

A bell tinkled somewhere and he breathed in the smell of powder, lemon- no orange floor cleaner, and something else he didn't place until he saw the old fashioned soda fountain at the back.

Alex walked through the small store and took a seat on a stool at the soda fountain, looking around.

"Can I help you?" A man said. Alex started.

A man in his late fifties smiled at him from behind the counter. The floor was carpet behind the counter and Alex hadn't heard him.

"I would like to know about the sign outside? About the help needed?"

Too late Alex realized he should have used a American accent.

"A foreigner, eh?" the man said, smiling.

Alex smiled at him stiffly.

"Sorry, you must get that a lot. Well, young man, we're looking for someone to do light chores, trash, cleaning floors, restocking shelves. My son hasn't been able to help as much lately because of school." The man said. He stuck out a hand to shake Alex's.

"I'm Mr. Abrams, son. And you are?"

Alex thought quickly. "Jacob Arbor."

It was the first thing he thought of, and surprisingly Mr. Abrams believed him.

"How old are you son?" Mr. Abrams asked Alex.

"Seventeen, sir."

"Got any parents around son?" Mr. Abrams asked Alex.

"They died when I was young, sir" Alex replied. At least he didn't have to lie about that.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, the job pays seven dollars an hour, with tips from the soda fountain. How does that sound?"

Alex grinned. "That sounds fantastic, sir. When may I start?"

Mr. Abrams clapped Alex on the shoulder with a grin.

"Any time you can! Can you work now? I have some selves in the back that need restocking, and I'm not as young as I used to be. Also, I swear those boxes get heavier every time I pick them up!"

Alex laughed and nodded."I don't have to be anywhere else today, right now sounds great."

The rest of Alex's day was spent learning where everything was, sweeping, and yes, restocking shelves. It was good, honest work and when Mr. Abrams paid him at the end of the day he was lightly sweating.

"Good work son, I'll see you tomorrow." Mr. Abrams told him. Alex shook his hand and waited until he had gone back into the drug store and shut the door before he began walking the streets again to the barn.

When he had almost reached it, movement caught the corner of his eye and he decided to walk past the barn and circle round.

When he turned a corner of a building he checked behind him. A girl ducked into an alleyway. Very sloppy.

Alex circled the block again before taking a different path through the back woods to the barn.

He needed to shower. There was a small motel in the town, and he was thinking about checking in for the night and shower and sleep there. It sounded better than the barn.

Alex ruled it oh though. He'd have to show ID,and that was what he was trying to avoid.

Alex was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the yells and scuffling coming from the park across the street. When he heard what sounded like someone hitting the pavement he broke into a sprint Alex breathed heavily through his nose, in and out. His breath froze and turned to steam, leaving a constant cloud in front of his face.

He knew he was somewhere in Virginia, not quiet sure exactly where though. The weather was colder here.

It had been a week. A week of constant walking, hiding from police officers, and finding a place to sleep at night.

The money he had was running out, and he needed to find some sort of employment, and soon. Maybe he could rent a room somewhere. This small, out of the way town was what he'd been looking for.

Alex stood and shook himself off, brushing bits of hay out of his hair and off of his clothes. He'd spent the night in an old, towering red barn that he'd stumbled into. No one seemed to be around to ask if he could stay, so he'd just rolled up his lack and sleeping bag and fallen asleep in the hay loft.

He changed quickly into warmer, clean clothes then scaled the ladder to the wooden floor. There wasn't any animals here except for mice, and by the looks of the boot and shoe marks covering the floor, the townsfolk used this place as a dance floor.

He decided to leave his backpack and other possessions in the loft, covered by hay. Surely there was work in the town. Maybe someone needed a sink fixed or a fence painted. There was even a school. He needed a fake ID, and soon. He knew as soon as he used his ID whatever system he'd used would send out a red alert all over the country.

He grabbed half of a left over granola bar from the day before and ate it, washing it down with water he got from a drinking fountain as he walked through the town.

He tried to look inconspicuous, but it was hard when at this hour most of the people his age were going into school for the day. Alex hunched his shoulders and worked on making himself visually invisible.

It must have worked, because most people didn't spare him a glance. Alex still swerved to avoid streets with heavy traffic, and he got a weird feeling when he saw a 'Drivers Ed' car filled with females parked at a curb.

It seemed innocent, but no one was in the drivers seat. Alex's neck prickled when he walked by them, and he turned his head quickly enough to catch one of the girls turning her head away.

Bad tactics, he thought to himself. Better to look them in the eye, then look away as though it was just causal eye contact on the street.

Something bothered him about the three girls, and he didn't realize what it was until he'd gotten several blocks away.

The insignia on their uniforms: He'd seen it before, on the metal gates of a private boarding school he'd seen out the window when he'd hitchhiked in.

The walls of the school had seemed innocent, but Alex had caught a glimpse of razor wire and hidden cameras concealed amongst the ivy leaves growing over the stone.

Strange security for a private school.

Alex nodded to a police man who passed by - no need to alarm them by making himself look more like a fugitive than normal.

He looked up after passing a small bookstore and saw a sign in a drugstore window -HELP WANTED.

Without a second thought Alex pushed the door open and walked in.

A bell tinkled somewhere and he breathed in the smell of powder, lemon- no orange floor cleaner, and something else he didn't place until he saw the old fashioned soda fountain at the back.

Alex walked through the small store and took a seat on a stool at the soda fountain, looking around.

"Can I help you?" A man said. Alex started.

A man in his late fifties smiled at him from behind the counter. The floor was carpet behind the counter and Alex hadn't heard him.

"I would like to know about the sign outside? About the help needed?"

Too late Alex realized he should have used a American accent.

"A foreigner, eh?" the man said, smiling.

Alex smiled at him stiffly.

"Sorry, you must get that a lot. Well, young man, we're looking for someone to do light chores, trash, cleaning floors, restocking shelves. My son hasn't been able to help as much lately because of school." The man said. He stuck out a hand to shake Alex's.

"I'm Mr. Abrams, son. And you are?"

Alex thought quickly. "Jacob Arbor."

It was the first thing he thought of, and surprisingly Mr. Abrams believed him.

"How old are you son?" Mr. Abrams asked Alex.

"Seventeen, sir."

"Got any parents around son?" Mr. Abrams asked Alex.

"They died when I was young, sir" Alex replied. At least he didn't have to lie about that.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, the job pays seven dollars an hour, with tips from the soda fountain. How does that sound?"

Alex grinned. "That sounds fantastic, sir. When may I start?"

Mr. Abrams clapped Alex on the shoulder with a grin.

"Any time you can! Can you work now? I have some selves in the back that need restocking, and I'm not as young as I used to be. Also, I swear those boxes get heavier every time I pick them up!"

Alex laughed and nodded."I don't have to be anywhere else today, right now sounds great."

The rest of Alex's day was spent learning where everything was, sweeping, and yes, restocking shelves. It was good, honest work and when Mr. Abrams paid him at the end of the day he was lightly sweating.

"Good work son, I'll see you tomorrow." Mr. Abrams told him. Alex shook his hand and waited until he had gone back into the drug store and shut the door before he began walking the streets again to the barn.

When he had almost reached it, movement caught the corner of his eye and he decided to walk past the barn and circle round.

When he turned a corner of a building he checked behind him. A girl ducked into an alleyway. Very sloppy.

Alex circled the block again before taking a different path through the back woods to the barn.

He needed to shower. There was a small motel in the town, and he was thinking about checking in for the night and shower and sleep there. It sounded better than the barn.

Alex ruled it out though. He'd have to show ID, and that was what he was trying to avoid.

Alex was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the yells and scuffling coming from the park across the street. When he heard what sounded like someone hitting the pavement he broke into a sprint.

In a few seconds he came across the scene, skidding to a stop in the gravel.

Three boys, all around his age were against one, taller boy. One of them wearing a black snapback punched the taller boy in the jaw, and he dropped like a stone, and the other two proceeded to kick at him as he curled up in the fetal position.

Alex didn't think, he let his instincts take other. He broke into a run again and in three long strides he was upon them.

One of the boys looked up in surprise, he was wearing a green sweatshirt. Alex's fist collided with the boys soler plexus and he dropped without even a yell.

Alex had already swept the other boy's feet out from under him with his foot by the time the boy in the sweatshirt had hit the ground. The boy he'd kicked landed on his back on his elbows, yelling with surprise, and scrambled to his feet. Alex punched the boy in the snapback as he was turning away from the invalid on the ground, but he only stumbled and spat blood on the ground.

Alex had turned his back on the boy in the sweatshirt as he was getting up, and he dodged the boys punch. He got him in the side with a spinning kick, then used the momentum to karate kick the one in the snapback.

The boys began yelling and scrambled to their feet, and ran off. One of them tried to throw a rock at Alex, which he easily dodged.

Alex stood, not even out of breath. He extended his hand to the boy still on the ground. He was sitting up and rubbing his jaw and wincing.

"You want to tell me why those blokes were beating on you?" Alex asked as the boy to his hand gratefully.

"I was 'Flirting' with one of their girls. Actually, she dropped her books and I picked them up for her." The boy said. He stuck out his hand again.

"I'm Josh. Josh Abrams."

"I'm Jacob. Jacob Arbor."


	5. Chapter 5

"Are you sure we should be doing this?"

Alex looked around nervously, hefting the large gray duffel bag over his shoulder. Josh laughed.

"Of course, they're just snobby rich girls. We'll shoot up the lawn and wall, then egg the front door then we'll get the hell outta there." He replied. The boys around Alex laughed at his unease, pulling black ski masks over their faces and tying shoe laces.

A moment later, after all of the boys were prepared and holding loaded paint ball guns, eggs, and rope, they took off. Alex kept pace with the other teenagers easily, choosing to stay in the middle of the pack (Because that was what it was, a pack.) and dodging the butts of the paint ball guns as he traveled.

It only took fifteen minutes to get to the Gallagher Academy, sneaking one by one across the road and outside the gates. And that was where they stopped, stumped.

No one had prepared for the extensive security. The place was crawling with cameras and probably bugged too.

"What're we supposed to do?" A tall, beefy ginger headed boy asked. None of the boys spoke. Then, almost at the same time, they all turned to Josh and Alex.

"Um-, I, er-" Josh stuttered. Alex stepped in. "You there, give me your gun." He said, nodding to the ginger boy. Ginger handed over the paint ball gun reluctantly.

Alex took a pocket flash light and switched it on. He then loaded the gun with black paint balls, cocked it, then used the flashlight to shine along the stone wall.

In at least thirty different places, it reflected.

"You there lad, hold the light like this, and don't move." Alex ordered Ginger. The kid took the light and held it.

Alex took aim, and fired multiple times.

One by one, the camera's stopped reflecting the light. Alex lowered the gun from his shoulder and took the light again, examining the trees. A faint glimmer caught his eye and he shot the hidden camera nestled deep in the knothole of an oak tree.

The boys were silent as Alex pointed out a good place to throw the rope over the wall. Then he silently gave control back to Josh.

A few minutes later, after the rest of the boys had climbed over the wall, Alex spoke.

"Why the bloody 'ell does this place have so much security? What're they afraid of?" He asked.

One of the boys snorted. "Probably scared we'll steal their prissy little tampons."

The boys had to hold in their laughter at that, as Josh and Ginger led them over the grass, ducking low and crawling army style over the perfectly manicured lawn.

Alex's breathe caught when he saw the mahogany front doors.

"Bingo." Josh muttered.

As one, the boys raised their paint ball guns and began firing, while other's threw eggs.

Bex was confused.

Firstly, Cammie was on the floor yelling something about grenades. Secondly, Liz was typing furiously on her laptop, pushing her glasses up her nose every so often. And lastly, the sirens were throwing her off too.

Bex rubbed the sleep from her eyes and pulled a pair of jeans on and a black tank top and tennis shoes. Now wasn't the time to be fashionable.

Cammie was dressed before Bex, and was at the doorway unlocking the doorknob. Bex realized what the lights flashing on the walls meant at the same time Cammie did.

_Code Red._

Within minutes the girls were in Cammie's mothers office, where the walls were spinning and being replaced with bookcases and trophy shelves.

Cammie's mother took one look at the three disheveled girls and pointed to a laptop on her desk. As the girls gathered around the mahogany surface, Bex saw that the laptop was hooked to a live feed of the surveillance cameras. At first Bex didn't immediately grasp what she was looking at, but when she realized she dropped her tough exterior for a moment and gasped out loud.

A large group of teenage boys, or more accurately, a _pack_ of boys were creeping around the grounds. The unchanged grounds. That still had lasers on. As she watched, one boy got dangerously near a triggering device for a garden gnome that shot poison darts. She let out a breath when his foot missed it by inches.

"That was too close," Cammie spoke. "We need to flip the switch and turn off security. Mom, can't you do anything?!"

Rachael Morgan shook her head, her eyes never leaving the screen. "No, they might see, and I doubt the CIA would appreciate us wiping over fifteen teenage boys memories for the night."

Bex winced as a boy nearly fell in the pond near the driveway, that was filled with explosives. The only reason he didn't was because another, smaller boy grabbed him and pulled him back.

"Turn off the devices that they've already passed then!" Cammie begged. Her mother looked at her a moment then grabbed a walkie talkie and spoke into it.

"Done," She replied. As she spoke, another boy stepped on the trigger for the gnome again and nothing happened.

"What are we supposed to do about it? Are they from the school? Are they from Blackthorne?" Liz asked excitedly. The headmistress huffed.

"Liz, that was just an insult to Solomon and Blackthorne. Yes, they're from the school, we've already identified the lot of them, except for a few."

Bex only half listened, keeping her eyes on the screen. Again, the smaller boy that had saved the boy by the pond pulled another boy from a explosive bush.

_How does he know?_

"Somethings not right here, look at this bloody tosser, he's avoiding everything!" Bex cursed. Her British accent came out more prominently. She raked her fingers through her hair and then pulled the wild, curly mess into a hair tie.

"I don't know," Rachael said, and that's when Bex started to get worried. "I don't know what to do."

A voice came from the doorway, and Bex could hear the smirk in the tone of her voice. Bex turned.

"Why, we go after them of course," Macy McHenrey said, leaning against the door jam and filing her nails.

When Alex saw the three figures in black, his first thought was _Ninjas._ And then he realized that this was Virginia.

It started gradually before he saw them. Two boy just suddenly wern't there anymore. And then three more were gone.

Ginger, the kid Alex ha dbeen speaking too earlier, was walking beside Alex holding his paintball gun against his chest, a scared expression on his face. Alex looked down to tie his shoelace, and Ginger was gone.

Josh, another boy, and Alex stood back to back, paintballs and eggs at the ready. Alex had a feeling that the prank, was no longer just a prank.

And then someone grabbed the kid beside him, and all hell broke loose.

**Not sure when I'll update again on this one, need to think out the rest of the plot! Review please! :)**


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